:-)

in need of medicine

2009-11-04T11:11:00.003+08:00

friends. why do we seek out the company of some and shun others? for all sorts of reason; social standings, common interest, familiarity, even physical proximity to home. for me, the reason is simple. i am drawn to those who make me laugh. not that i will shun others who don't, but i find myself drawn to companionship that makes me exercise the gut muscle. laughters, who doesn't like to laugh. getting older, i find that i hear my own laughters less often. that once familiar sound which flitters nearby when i'm nervous, excited and most certainly when i'm happy, is like a distant relative now. it seldom comes for a visit.

is it more difficult to make me laugh now? no, at least i don't think so. i'm willing, even desperate to laugh myself silly over the smallest of thing but it seems opportunities are rare and far in between. quick, tell me a joke, i promise i'll laugh. i'll even tickle myself if it would help, but unfortunately i'm not ticklish. perhaps, that tells a lot about my frame of mind. joke books are read with an occasional snicker or more usually, a bored and impervious countenance. i even tell jokes with a straight face nowadays! i'm really scrapping the bottom of the barrel.

why is it so difficult to seek for laughters? of all my friends, i only know one or two who makes me laugh. and most definitely, not female. aren't women funny? is that why most stand-up comedians, and clowns for that matter, are men? maybe men are natural born jokers. ha. did you see that? even literally, my laughter has been reduced to a single 'ha' instead of the usual 'ha-ha'. life is pathetic. i need a dose of laughter medicine.

music in my life

2009-10-30T08:37:00.004+08:00

a friend used to wonder, why is my choice of listening pleasure stuck in the 80s? reminiscing is fine but you should move on, you should listen to all the new songs out there, i was told. i feel like an old grandma knitting away in her rocking chair whilst the gramophone is playing nearby. i do listen to new music, whatever is playing on the radio but more often than not, i find myself switching to 105.7, the music for oldies. this is not where you insert your tease of my age, so please do resist.

i have been ruminating, why is it that i love the music of the 80s so much? is it as my friend said, it brings us back to our lives back then, simpler, easier, and looking back, always rosier? does it raise some memories from way back then, some beautiful frozen picture panels of our lives? a certain song attaching itself to a certain specific part of the past, like the first slow dance, the first kiss, the first date.

for me, it's nothing like that. when i was listening to music way back then, i was listening to music. not engaging in any other activities that would have brought back sweet memories. if i were to close my eyes when the radio played my favourite song, i can see in my mind's eye the me that was so long ago, sitting by myself in the room as the music played. is it just my infamous lousy memory or is it just a very lonely past, i don't have many memories that are associated to songs. some, but not many. the first time i slow danced with a boy - whom i didn't even have any romantic feelings for, i can't remember what was playing in the background. the second time, many many many years later - with another boy whom i bordered on dislike, i still paid no attention to the music. perhaps it was the companion, perhaps it was the ambience. it was neither romantic, nor worth remembering. all i remember is silence. are my memories mute? in which case, is it in colour? i can't remember the colours either. strange.

despite the lack of attachments of memories to the music, i am strangely attached to the music. for a while i didn't understand why. now i do. i like the music for its familiarity. for being a part of what i was, what i am now and what i will always be. for being a part of my past, my present and my future. that i find is the rarest of thing in this world that changes in the speed of light. friends that you cannot hold on to through the test of time. things that constantly innovate and update before you can even familiarise. life perpetually changing at a heady pace, before you can stand still for a moment and immerse in its warm embrace, the only constant thing being change.

i like the music of my past because it is the one thing that will always be there, the one part of my life that will not change and will be there when i need its familiar comfort. when the words in the air mirrors that which pass my mouth without even making a conscious effort to remember , it is like an old friend.

this is how a modern woman does it

2009-10-07T11:30:00.001+08:00

today, this little housewife (why housewife? i'm not married to a house! ask any woman and you'll realise that none of us like to be called a housewife) was sent out on a mission. to look for something that the chinese call sang yee. sang yee? live fish, literally translated? don't think anybody will entertain me if i go around asking for that. all my fishes are live, missy, i'll have you know that!!, and off i'll be swatted with some smelly broom.

ahhhhh, but this little missy is no ordinary run-of-the-mill man-wife (that term is more appropriate perhaps ?). i'm a technologically advanced, modern, a-million-task-to-juggle woman and therefore, to google i turn. sang yee, or what is known locally as ikan haruan or snakehead fish. people in the know will understand that this fish is not commonly available in all markets. people will tell you that you can find it here and there, but you will most likely be knocking down empty doors because supply is usually erratic.

despite that, this is perhaps where other man-wives dash off to the local markets to hunt down this temperamental specie; temperamental because it can never be found when you want it but in abundance when you don't need it. i, on the other hand, continue googling. if my paternal grandmother was still around to see me, she would have probably given out a loud sigh and a sad shake of the head. ask that one to go pasar, and she sits her bum down infront of the computer, typing typing typing. play computer also can buy fish one meh?

i googled the local hypermarkets, which i know sometimes carry them. i called the biggest branch to confirm that they do indeed have stock. ikan haruan, oh yes, we do have. and off, superwoman dashed off to the nearest hypermarket to hunt down the fish. triumph? sigh, not quite still.

sometimes the human factor defeats all advancement in technology. the person who picked up the phone informed me correctly that they do indeed carry the snakehead fish, but she did not mention how many. one miserable one. i went all the way there for one miserable fish, which fortunately was still swimming when i got there, unlike its other fishy friends.

after paying for my purchase, i made my way to another supermarket. on the way there, i called them up to make sure they have stock. oh yes, we have ikan haruan, the lady who answered the phone said. zoooommmmm! they have my foot! upon enquiry at their seafood section, they have zilch. and that is not another name for the snakehead fish. i called the lady up again.

you told me there is snakehead fish here, but i am here now and there is no snakehead fish!

oh, after that, i asked and they told me they didn't bring it in today, she said.

?! (*@&@#^^@*)

and i gave her an earful. again, all advancement in technology is useless in the face of irresponsible, unreliable, inefficient human. i should have known when she answered the phone in that listless, bored voice of hers. a disinterested voice speaks volume, remember this advice well my fellow readers.

left with no choice, i made my way to another supermarket. this morning was turning out to be an expedition to supermarkets. can i apply for a job as one of those undercover people who rates supermarket service? i had to call another three supermarkets before i could find one that have stock of the fish. one lady who answered in the other supermarket actually made an effort to check with her colleague before confirming that their supply of the fish has not arrived, saving me a trip there. this is what service should be all about, not just shooting off straight from the mouth without confirming the truth. all too often, we get that here, people giving information without the need to verify its authenticity, without a thought of how it would inconvenience or be detrimental to others, without the need to be responsible for what they spew forth. and much too often, others start rumours just because they can, telling people what they THINK and treating it as FACTS. wars have been started just because of this culture of irresponsibility and apathy.

so, ends this story of how a modern woman does her marketing, with the application of technologically advanced tools and less dirty work. stay tune for the next time the man-wife is given another household task, and she attempts to include the advancement of scientific knowledge in its application.

explosion imminent

2009-09-16T15:25:00.002+08:00

when your stomach is so full, to the brink of explosion, it severely affects your work performance. hence all those correction tape marks in my work today, boss. honest. nothing to do with my skill or professionalism. you eat too much, leads to your stomach being so uncomfortable, leads to difficulty in concentration with your belly in the way, leads also to sleepiness when the digestion sets in, which finally leads to all types of mistake in your work. *yawn* see? it's not my fault. it's my friend's. for buying me such a wonderful lunch.

haha. how ungrateful. there goes my free lunch from now on. :-p

...and they came in pairs.

2009-09-12T10:45:00.000+08:00

looking at my facebook's friends list, i know 2 andrews, 2 annies, 2 garys, 2 ivans, 2 jackies, 2 noels and 2 stanleys. i feel like i'm collecting a noah's ark.

amazing discovery!

2009-09-11T10:48:00.003+08:00

i have a new discovery that i will like to share with you. apparently, western women will not die from being knocked down by a car. i haven't discover the reason for their seeming natural immunity to road accidents yet, but i vow to never rest until i can uncover the truth behind their very well protected secret.

today morning, as my car was turning the bend, a couple of blondes were walking in the middle of the road. their confidence of exercising right in the middle of the road stems from their knowledge that they won't die even if a car was to knock them down at full speed. of course. however, being gracious and knowing that they are obstructing traffic, the lady on the left spied an approaching car with the corner of her eye, which has by now slowed to a crawl to follow the women, and slowly dragged her feet to one side of the road. she was insistent that she does not in any way alter the slow tempo of her exercise and so, was adamant about strolling slowly away. it is quite amazing. researchers the whole wide over will be most interested in dissecting these two breed of women in order to discover what is it that cause them to be so fearless in the face of death, or if indeed they are naturally protected from the forces of fast moving cars.

ring, ring........it's for you

2009-09-10T08:58:00.000+08:00

still remember the good old days when you don't have this nagging troublesome bothersome thing by your side? that you are free to roam, without a care for time or place? that you don't need to have a thought for any other? and no whiny spoilt mega-attention-caller noise will shrill incessantly in your ear, demanding that you drop everything on your hands and listen attentively?

i am, of course, talking about my handphone. it doesn't get any more appealing just because i just changed to a pink one. it still demands my attention at the most frustrating of times; like when i am in the bathroom, when i am just about to fall asleep, when i am in the midst of enjoying my meal. of course, it doesn't ring when i am in a boring meeting, waiting for any divine intervention to come save me from dying a very slow and torturous death. the thing is evil, i tell you.

i do remember, the good old times, when someone asked me for my handphone number and i answered, 'oh, i don't usually switch it on', and it was fine, it was acceptable. nobody shrinks from you in a heartbeat as if you are some strange alien from another planet. nobody leaves their phone on 24/7 in that era (anybody commenting that it must have been a very long time ago can consider themselves dead meat). the other day, a colleague mentioned to me that he can always be contacted, that he leaves his phone on 24/7. my immediate thought was 'so? who doesn't? what's the big deal?'. from being a luxury, it has become a necessity, a part of the human anatomy even.

so, can you live one whole day without your handphone? can I live one whole day without my phone? i gladly can, and i gladly will, if i am not being seriously reprimanded as being irresponsible for not carrying my phone around like a new-born baby in need of constant nourishment. by my own flesh and blood nonetheless. he deems it irresponsible. sigh. i didn't see that coming. it's no longer normal to leave your handphone in your room and go down for dinner. it's not normal to exist independently without your handphone for a matter of few hours. people have to be at the beck and call of others within the blink of an eye. all these must be improving communication between people by a vast margin. but yet i don't see it.

i miss the ring-free days. i miss being uncontactable. perhaps that's why i love vacationing in the u.s. of a and japan. where they have a totally different type of tele-communication system than ours and our handphones are rendered useless. but then they had to come up with 3g!!! i will seriously have to consider spending some vacation time in some remote uncivilised uninhabitated island. to escape from the evil shrilling sound of ......THE HANDPHONE!

i'm a barbie girl, in a barbie world

2009-09-09T10:57:00.007+08:00

i feel like a barbie doll today.

and my owner just rotated my leg 360 degrees.

both right and left.

umpteenth times

a peek into my day

2009-09-08T11:01:00.003+08:00

was woken from my deep slumber by a faint toot-toot-toot sound emanating from my right side. when i begin to realise that the irritating sound plays no part in my dream, consciousness filter through the thick blanket of slumber and the details of my dream began to vaporise.

thus began my day. sleepwalked to the bathroom, emerged wide awake, prepared breakfast and lunch to feed the ever-hungry ones, hit their little bums to hurry them out of the door, sat down for a little brekkie myself with the other half, along with some side order of newspaper. when he was also off for another day's worth of paycheck, i decided to venture out on a little adventure of my own. to the gym i will go, heigh ho, heigh ho.

for all the 4, or was it 5, years that i have been staying there, i have never visited the in-house gym. walked past it many a times but the quiet, dark room has always been a little intimidating. if it was dark and quiet, it would have been fine. however, i can just imagine all these fit, beefy looking people in tight fitting clothes, without an ounce of fat on their body, looking every inch a mr universe, or a miss universe, working out side by side with me. gyms are not for beautiful looking people. they already look good enough, go out somewhere and flaunt it. gyms are for people with love handles, elephant thighs and jiggling bits to pant, pound, exert and sweat in order to look like them. they should ban all those already-fit looking people from the gym. return only when you start to look like one of us; the normal a-little-greedy, a-little-unfit, a-little-jiggly part of the population.

today i was ready for a little ackwardness, i have put on my thick-skin face. with a reader's digest in hand, so that i can suavely walk past the gym with my face deeply engrossed in the book should it be full of those fit beautiful creatures, i headed off for the gym. and to my surprise, it was dark and empty, as usual. with 240 units in the condominium, and an average occupancy of 4 persons per household, making a total of 960 people living in that place of dwelling, not 1, not a single soul, will come down for a little bit of panting and gasping at 8.30am in the morning. perhaps they are doing some panting and gasping already in their unit :-p.

so, i was left blissfully alone for my very first virgin visit to the gym in my condo, where i sweated a little, panted a little and overall did my body some good, even if only marginably better than my usual imitation of a couch potato.

by 9am, i was back up in my unit, resting on the sofa waiting for the body to cool down once more before i hit the shower. it was an energetic morning. after the good workout, at 9am in the morning, i was ready to...... drift back to sleep. smelly clothes and all. having woken up at 6.30am, i want to crawl back to sleep. so badly. but my day has begun and even if only in lethargic mode, i will continue. whoever says exercise makes you more alert?

:-p

a tale unfolds

2009-09-07T15:56:00.000+08:00

funny how life is like a movie, or a thick novel. slowly the story unfolds, page by page, day by day. the scene changes, the characters changes, everything changes. over time, i've been telling a story in this blog of mine. perhaps not in such an obvious manner but now i link together the stories that were told.

http://2ching.blogspot.com/2008/03/of-life-and-living.html

http://2ching.blogspot.com/2009/03/whole-lifetime.html.

that was then. this is now.

we didn't know why, when, how, why and what . time revealed all. one year later, she was gone, all the mystery unveiled. now we know when, what and how. we still don't understand the 'why', why one can stand passively by the sidelines, watching her waste away a little each day. i don't think we will ever understand. still, it was their decision. we can sigh, we can grieve, we can say a million times over what a senseless waste it was, but ultimately, it was her life on her hands

now, 6 months down the road, he is being introduced to blind dates. it seemed like just yesterday that she left, that i touched her cold, still body for a pulse. the image is still too vividly stuck in my mind's eye.

yet, can you blame him? there isn't a correct or wrong length of time to grieve. here is a man who has always had someone to take care of him since his first breath on earth. first his mother, then his sister, and straight on into the laps of his wife. a man who never had to do any housework for even one day or even cook for himself. a man whose answer to a pile of unwashed undergarments is to buy some more new ones. is his a tale of a man blissfully sheltered all his life, or the sad story of one who has always needed others?

we laugh at the stories of his blind dates gone wrong. we gleefully accept that he needs someone in his life to take care of him. friends and families eagerly look for someone to hold his hand for the rest of the journey. have we forgotten? did we close the chapter on 20 years of marriage and a whole lifetime? perhaps one can love many at the same time, perhaps to love does not mean not to grieve.

i steal a glance at him. he does not look sad. he does not look lonely. perhaps he is a master of disguises. or perhaps only at night, when all is dark and silent, and the spot beside him on the bed is cold and empty. a whole lifetime together and it ends like this. only when it is dark and silent.

it would have been poetic to have just ended at the previous paragraph. but i see no joy in wishing for a man to pine pointlessly for someone who has gone. i do injustice in claiming that i do not see him grieve. grieve is his and his alone, he does not have to show, me or anyone else. 6 months down the road, he has a new lease on life. i wish him well.

the sun stole a kiss without my knowing it

2009-09-02T09:16:00.004+08:00

came back with a slight sunburn without even knowing it. i looked into the mirror and saw a woman with a very healthy (over)glow looking back at me. didn't give the reddish nose and rosy cheeks a second thought, though looking back my face did feel tighter and a little chafed. over time, the rudolph nose started chapping and peeling. only then did it struck me that indeed, i was sunburnt, from too much fun under the sun. whilst wearing a jacket. with a fog enveloping me. in genting.

how does one arrive in genting all cold and freezing, jumping on one foot to the other to keep warm and leave with a sunburn?

the day when heaven cries

2009-09-01T09:28:00.000+08:00

i love rainy days. days when the sky is gloomy and it is wet and cold all around. when the pitter patter of raindrops is like a soothing lullaby to my soul. when the positive ions in the air re-energises my spirit.

i realise lately that it rains on the funerals of some people. on some category of people with specifications and requirements that i do not understand. it rains during the final journeys of some ...but yet not others. i can only imagine that these people are tender people. people who have never hurt another soul in their lives. good people. people that the heaven above feels sad for bringing away. people that makes the sky weeps. i have attended two funerals this year and on both funerals, the sky opened briefly and pour down a little tears.

now, on dark gloomy days, on days that make me feel good and recharges the essence that is me, i feel a little sad. that somewhere someplace another good person has passed away.

tracking for ramen

2009-08-23T09:41:00.005+08:00

if you have been searching, then you will know. that there isn't any ramen in town worth talking about. i googled the phrase 'best ramen in kl" and came up zilch. no milky-white pork bone soup with an aroma to die for. no springy noodle with a bite so chewy in the mouth. i can almost smell the hot sweet-smelling soup in my mind, it brings saliva to my mouth.

the nearest thing that i could find to a perfect ramen is in singapore. across the causeway. 4 hours drive away. sigh. persistent that i was to have that perfect ramen, i made a note of the name and address of the place. and when i knew that i was going to be in singapore one particular week, i was all ready with my gprs and the note.

with slow driving conditions, we finally cleared the immigration at 2pm. a little late for lunch. our stomachs were growling. we had deliberately kept it empty in anticipation of that hot kyushu pork bone soup ramen. anything else would have spoiled the taste. our gprs co-operated fully and brought us straight to the correct street. wrong shop no. it took us another 10 minutes to locate the exact 'x' that marked the spot. it was indeed like a treasure hunt, and our mouth was deliriously drooling the closer we got to the chest.

final destination: liang court. tampopo. famous black pig ramen. normally we would have wandered around the shopping centre a little to locate the shop. this time i headed straight to the information counter. 2.30pm and i still haven't have my much anticipated ramen warmly tucked inside my stomach, this is no time to be playing around. directions received, it was all i could do to stop myself from sprinting the last 100m to the shop. i would have beat usain bolt during that particular instance too.

don't know if it was all the anticipation or the exhilaration from finally being able to savour with my tongue the taste that was in my head for weeks, the ramen was delicious, to say the least. one bowl was way too little, but one bowl was all i could fit in. it's a pity that i have to go through all this fuss for a simple noodle of ramen. it is already on my 'to go' list when i next visit the island, alongside the springy al-dente shimbashi soba that i must also have.

yahoo not-so-yahoo

2009-08-19T09:10:00.008+08:00

did you hear? yahoo is changing the way we can recover the account if we forget our password. soooooo?, i hear some of you ask. i don't know which is more pathetic, them asking such silly questions, or me not being able to answer them.

q: where did you spend your honeymoon?

a: that looks pretty simple, huh? it isn't. after the wedding, we had no plans whatsoever for the honeymoon, planning for the wedding had already taken too much of our energy. so, the day after, i was still seated at my desk in the office. everybody who walks past will stop by and exclaim, "what are you doing here? shouldn't you be on your honeymoon?", so much so that i immediately got a ticket to london so that i won't have to hear it anymore. so, london was my honeymoon, right? wrong. that's where we stopped to plan for the start of our honeymoon. we ended up in europe, here, there and everywhere. now, tell me, how exactly do i write all these in that little short space for answer? london? paris? austria? europe? headache.

q: what is your eldest cousin's name?

a: maternal or paternal?!! it will take me forever to figure out who is oldest. i have cousins whom i don't even know their names!!

q: what is your youngest child's nickname?

a: ha! batman. astro boy. tv king. ah boy. ti ti. tomato. honey. take your pick.

q: what is your eldest child's nickname?

a: *rolls eyes* princess. sweety. che che. cherry. honey. cutey. baby. with so many options, how can i remember which i chose?

q: what is the first name of your favourite aunt?
q: what is the first name of your favourite uncle?

a: the answer is so pathetic. i don't have any favourite aunts and uncles. they didn't exactly play a very active role in my life when i was growing up.

q: who is your favourite author?

a: my bookcase is lined with books from sidney sheldon, david baldacci, jeffrey deaver, jeffrey archer, jonathan kellerman, dan brown. i can't even tell whom i like more!!!

q: what is the surname of the best man at your wedding?

a: aha!! this is pretty straightforward! i can answer that, without any ambiguity. but if i'm repeating it here, it isn't, right? *smirk* that is because our dear best man's surname is lee. for some reason, yahoo won't accept any answers with less than four alphabets. *thunk* yes, that was me fainting. i can't change someone's surname to suit you, mr yahoo!.

q: what is the surname of the maid of honour at your wedding?

a: *looking slitty eyed* her surname has two alphabets only......

q: what is the name of your favourite book?

a: with so many favourite authors, you think i will only have one favourite book? actually, at the moment, my absolute favourite book is the time traveller's wife, which is written by none of my favourite author. how's that for irony. the question is, will it continue to be my favourite book 2 years down the road after having read so many more books. it's not like i will be forgetting the password of the account tomorrow, or the day after. we are talking about several years later. make a mental note: in 2009, your favourite book was the time traveller's wife. good one, for ms. swiss-cheese brain.

q: what is the surname of your favourite musician?

a: for someone so fickle and with so many favourite authors, you think i will have just one favourite musician?

q: what is your all-time favourite film character?

a: is there something wrong with me, because i don't seem to have one favourite anything. as with all good movies, i have a character that i like in it, but there are so many good movies out there, so how can i have only one favourite? if they keep asking questions like that, it must mean that there are people out there that are totally devoted to one thing per category. such obsession, such passion, such fervour, i seem to be lacking. please do not remind me of my shortcomings.

q: what was your first pet's name?

a: mum was allergic to animal hair *pout*. strange that she isn't allergic to human hair. i had a pair of tortoise, a gift from a friend, but they died before i named them. tortoise. pets that virtually need no care whatsoever and have a tendency to live a very long life. until they come into my hands.

there was a rabbit that jumped into our house compound. i can't remember what we named it....snowy perhaps. the minute i returned to singapore, mum told me a cat came to snatch her away, and that was the end of my pet-rearing days. such coincidence. i think maybe mum just relocated her.

q: what is the name of your favourite sports team?

a: manchester united? can i borrow my hubby's favourite? i'm not too keen on sports.

q: where did you spend your childhood summers?

a: at home? really exciting. i rather the people at yahoo didn't know that.

q: what was the surname of your favourite teacher?

a: teachers don't like me. can't figure out why. so i guess the feeling is vice versa.

q: what was the surname of your best childhood friend?

a: was that between 5-6 years old, 7-10 years old, 11-12 years old, 13-14 years old, or 15 years onward? i must have changed schools 7 times before i finished secondary education, how many best friends do you think i have had?

q: what was your favourite food as a child?

a: didn't like food much as a child. mum had to take hours to shove those things in my mouth back then. now, i can't stop myself from shoving them in without chewing.

q: what was the surname of your first boss?

a: first boss, last boss, only boss. unfortunately his surname has only three alphabets :-p

q: what is the name of the hospital where you were born?

a: i can't even remember what i ate for lunch yesterday, you think i can remember something 38 years back? especially since the hospital has since closed down eons ago. probably because i was born. they decided they have produced their greatest quality ever, and no subsequent birth can match such excellence, so they decided to close it down. ahem.

q: what is your main frequent flyer number?

a: this is a trick!! a scam!! it's posted everywhere, do you think i am so socially unaware? we are not suppose to divulge information on any personal identification numbers! ha! i wasn't born yesterday, you knowwwwww.

i fail even at answering security questions. lameness at its extreme. there is however one last option; make your own question. mine was 'why do they ask such stupid questions?'. do you know what the answer is?

he said tomaeto, i said tomahto.

2009-08-18T12:15:00.004+08:00

he was reading some numbers to me in hokkien dialect, which i must admit i can no longer claim proficiency at. i haven't had much opportunity to exercise that part of my linguistic muscle for the longest time.

he: 9........7.......1........1.........1........8

me: sorry, is that triple '1's?

he: 9........7.......1........1.........1........8

me: so, it is triple '1's?

he: 97......11........18.

me: ya, ok (*&^%$^&&%$^^*%$$&^%#!!)

i could have persisted, 3 '1's ya? just to irate the hell out of him, because he chose not to answer my question directly, which irates the hell out of me. but i left it at that.

communication is such a difficult thing.

blogger manhandled

2009-08-17T13:50:00.003+08:00

masseuse: \-ˈsə(r)z, -ˈsüz\ (noun) a woman who exerts excessive force in the name of relaxation and soothing muscle tension.

today we bring you one word from the international lenglui dictionary, an online dictionary that attempts to share with you the true meaning and interpretation underlying the words, rather than the silly inaccurate definitions in the dictionaries.

masseuse. the crazy lady who has two definition of strengths in her vocabulary; painful and not painful. sunday, i walked into my semi-regular spa for another attempt to work out those tight knots in my shoulder. she started off with what i can only describe as caressing my body, or endearing application of scented oil at the very most. the pressure she applied can only constitute sensual if she was my lover, which she wasn't, nor was she paid to be. so, i spoke up. a little harder please. those are four little words in a masseuse vocabulary that may lead to internal haemorrhaging and death by hand, a lesson that i have learnt long ago yet i still unwittingly err everytime. the basic instinct to get as much back in return as possible, even if by the level of force applied, is ingrained too deep. from soothing caresses the jilted lover kneaded her thumbs into my flesh with all her might, popping all the alarms and lights in my brain. it sounded like someone won a jackpot in that cranial lobe of mine, only pain and physical suffering were dropping like crazy from the slot machine, not coins. she doesn't comprehend the words a little. crash course on the english language, pleaseeeeee.

she reminded me i have certain body parts, parts that i never give the minute of day to, like the spot two inches above my heel. i don't even think there is a term given to that part of the body. but she made me think of that place again when she dug her thumbs into it, but a fond memory it wasn't. i have no freaking idea why that place which i do not make use of will hurt so much. i had to restrain from either instinctly kicking her off the table, or shrink away from her abusive touch and cower in a corner.

she covered the rest of the bodyin good time, all the while hurting me everywhere she touches. i pay good money for this? am i some kind of masochistic idiot? i was way too tensed to be relaxed. she tire herself eventually, lessening her evil death grip to something that was more acceptable. not before i learnt that there is a direct nerve that goes from my left leg to the right side of my brain. everytime she manhandle my left leg, the right side on my brain is throbbing. ahhhhh, we learn something new about the human body everyday from a simple massage appointment.

to all fairness, i did leave with my muscles a little less tight. my skin however was another matter. it hurts when i touch. i think the surface pain is suppose to be a distraction from any pain below the skin. ha, so clever of them.

were you there, or was it just an empty shell?

2009-08-14T09:51:00.001+08:00

what's wrong with people nowadays? did you read the news about twitter ceo's wife twitting whilst she is in labour? it's great publicity for her hubby's company, which translates into more shopping money for mama and more posh designer-wear for little baby, but twitting whilst in a very significant and dramatic phase of your life? to each his own, but perhaps you should be concentrating on pushing and breathing? i can just imagine the comical scenario in my mind.

hubby: deary, your water just broke!! ok, walk calmly to the car and i will be right there, once i grab your overnight bag.

wifey: arggggghhhhhhhh.....wait wait, let me just finish typing this update on twitter.

................................................

in the car....

wifey: argggghhhhhhhhh....the pain is 10 minutes apart now.

hubby: breathe, baby, breathe.

.....

.....

hubby: errr....i meant, breathe baby, with your nose. not type the word 'breathe breathe..' on your handphone!!

................................................

during labour...

doctor, exasperated: mrs williams! can you please concentrate on pushing instead of texting on your handphone!!! you don't have to tell the world that you are pushing!! just do it!!

wifey: wait wait, just let me get the few last words in.

ok, so i was exaggerating. she didn't tweet all the way whilst in labour, she did give up her updates when she was fully in labour; a loud empty gap between the last 'the heartbeat monitor soothes the silence of a room that will shortly be anything but silent' and the next 'changing the diaper' update.

still, twittering seems to have gained too much foothold in some people's life. infact, gadgetry on the whole seems to have taken over human interactions; the pure and undiffused sensations and emotions of talking, seeing, touching and simply being in the moment. i understand the excitement, the desire to share exhilarating news with those close and dear ones on a real-time basis, but for every such unique occasion, you only get to live through it once. graduation, prom nights, first dates, first kiss, important meeting, casual get-together, mouth watering piece of steak; shouldn't everyone be giving it their 110% attention and at the very end of the day, leave with a very distinct and beautiful memory of what once was.

i can just imagine someone twittering whilst they are making out.

twitter update 1: he's rubbing me the wrong way

twitter update 2: bingo!

twitter update 3: comeon baby!! yes! yes! yessssss!

twitter update 4: should i perhaps be chucking the phone at this point? nahhh, another 5 minutes, he won't notice.

twitter update 5: hmmmm....kind of hungry, should i get up to make a sandwich?

for all i know, there are already such updates out there. i see people playing with their phone all the time in posh romantic restaurants, some talking whilst others so distracted by whatever is so engaging on the phone. children whose head never look up from their nds for even a second, whilst the parents glance around the restaurant in an uncomfortable silence. used to be that talking on the phone whilst in the company of others is considered rude, now it's commonplace. your companion may even ask, 'aren't you going to answer that?' when you ignore that rude intrusion into your hot delicious dinner. what was once unacceptable is now considered strange when you don't conform.

i try not to let my kiddies play their gadgets when we dine together as a family. that's when we are suppose to talk about what happened in our day, according to those warm fuzzy almost-extinct family movies anyway. it's an alien concept to most nowadays. the other kids in the table, not mine, are all engrossed in their own games. everyone looks at me as if i were an evil stepmother, especially when the little one starts pouting and crying. kids. they will always try to push their limit and boundaries. i rather he sulk at the table and over time, get used to the rule, rather trap himself into a vacuum of cold emotionless invisible forceshield, where no human interaction can make a difference, no laughters can get in or out. these are moments that cannot be turned back and relived, those moments of chatting, laughing and sharing with the young ones when they are growing up. very soon, very very soon, they will not be chatty, they will not need you and least of all they will want to share their days with you. it doesn't help that the other family members do not share the same enthusiasm in drawing the line and shifts the pressure on me but i believe in what i believe, and i know what i want my children to turn out. to be warm and loving. to be able to feel human interaction. to be in the moment.

if found, please return to owner

2009-08-13T11:30:00.000+08:00

if you see me walking on the road, you will recognise me. you know why? because (yes, yes, i know we are not suppose to start a sentence with a conjunction but we are living dangerously in this blog. yawn!) i am labelled. labelled? yes, as in there is a sticker on me somewhere identifying what or who i am.

everything in our house is labelled. well, everything that gets to leave the house, anyway. you won't see our hamsters being labelled because technically they don't get to leave the house. i am not talking about pokey, the escape artist, of course. he just disappeared, and since the only way out for him out of the 25 storey balcony is dooooown, i figured he basically commited suicide. so, it was a good thing that we didn't label the hamsters, otherwise the management office will be calling me up to identify bodies and remove splattered hamster pieces.

actually, everything in our house that belongs to batman is labelled. okay, there are many things in the house that are labelled which do not belong to the little batman but that stems from my o.c.d., which is another topic altogether, so we ignore those for the moment. so, all his possessions are labelled because batman is in the habit of losing things. from clothings, stationeries, water bottles to books. i am surprised that he has managed to come home everyday with his underwear on. i am not jesting. there are underwears and shoes in the lost and found department of his school. it's a 'boy' thing, i realise, to lose track of possessions. it's costing me though, to keep buying new ones to replace the missing. he can come home without books, without sharpeners, without p.e. clothes, without food containers, without jackets and when you ask him what happened to them, he will just shrug and say he lost it. such nonchalance, such carefree abandon, as if he is a monk unaware of materialistic possessions.

so, we go around writing and sewing his names into little things, short of his underwear of course. if he lost his underwear, while wearing it, the underwear will be the last thing i am worried about. it all looks very posh and classy, i've got my name printed on all my things, ooooooo..., all very upper-class monogram feel, don't you think? but there is the untold story of one mother's frustration, who has to keep handing over cold hard cash to replenish these items. sometimes i wonder where all these missing items go. to the big heaven of little boys' forgotten things up above? i'll bet if i go browsing around, i'll come back with a vanful.

remedy? can't possibly keep screaming and shouting at him each time, i don't have the energy to keep up. especially since, (in a hushed conspiracy voice) i think it's an inherent genetical fault. *cough* tried making the little one pay for it from his allowance money. do you know how much a jacket wipes out a 8-year-old boy's allowance for months and months to come? after the loss of one expensive item, the second one seems to pale by comparison. how many future months of allowance can you take away from him? no allowance until you are 68 years old?

so, i'm adopting a defeatist stance. that's why i'm not taking a chance on getting myself lost. i'm labelled, to be on the safe side. i'm mummy, please return to owner if found.

friendships are not forever

2009-08-12T08:45:00.000+08:00

my daughter is losing her best friend in 9 days time. why do i feel like i am the one losing a best friend? is this how motherhood is suppose to be; feeling her pains and experiencing her joys as if i were under her skin? life's tiresome enough with my own share of emotions, i have to bear another, maybe two more, sets of emotional roller coasters? nobody ever tells you this.

her closest friend, whom she has befriended since primary 1, whom she has spent every minute in school with since she joined three years ago, is moving on to another school, all because of our government's excellent direction in academics. will things ever be the same again? the bond between the families have grown closer over the years, so much so that i will not bat my eyelids in leaving her at their house for the entire day. they have no qualms of me bringing their kids out for the day either. the ease, the comfort, the trust. all those weren't built overnight. will there be another to fill the empty lonely gap when she leaves? she is a tiny girl, with a gigantic punch of confidence and leadership qualities. my daughter seems so much bigger next to her, yet she lacks the confidence to step out and make herself be heard. they fit together like a glove on a hand; compensating where the other is lacking.

will it all come to an end? inevitably. no matter how much they try to keep in touch, no matter how often they visit, the separation is undeniable. 9 more days. to this beautiful friendship, this closeness. another heartbreak and a lesson in life that my daughter will have to go through in this journey called life.

on the phone

2009-08-11T10:36:00.000+08:00

here i am, one hour into my morning, still on the line since it started. the call is across the causeway, so i can only imagine telekom malaysia getting all excited about it. the music i have been listening to the whole morning is not exactly engaging enough to make me forget i am being tiresomely put on hold, one more time. her voice, although sweet, is starting to make me scream bimbo in that now dull echoing cavern of my head. don't believe what you hear, government offices over the causeway is no more efficient than ours. they are sweeter, definitely, and miles more polite, but no more efficient. actually, even less, if at all possible.

apparently, the payment side of the department that collects blood from its citizens, and non-citizens alike, does not communicate with the assessment side, neither do they want to. did they get into a huge argument, these two members of the supposedly same family? was there a huge row over who got the most credit when it comes to bleeding us dry to finance invesments into ludicrous ventures? like a go-between, i am forced to call one and then the other to relay the message. he said this, she said that. i am quite sure they are in the same building, for goodness sake, whilst i am here, all 280 miles away. that makes perfect sense. for goverment departments, that is. they didn't even want to hear any of it, until i had to steel my voice and throw in an occasional threat. all in an equally sweet voice, of course.

they have derived a system where they tax you on income that you are not going to receive and will never receive, simply because they feel you are likely to receive. and they will even fine you penalty on not paying tax on the income that you did not receive. let's see 5% penalty on 0 income is.....0!! all these plucking off figures from thin air, that's how they are financing the waste water recyling venture is it? you can't simply tell them you won't receive such income, they'll ask you 'so how soon can you pay?'. i'm not paying, i will not be receiving any income!!!! such thick skull. sigh.

you have to give them one thing though, they are sweet. and polite. now, if only we can work on some efficiency behind the facade.

the most basic of all necessity

2009-08-10T14:16:00.000+08:00

i haven't been lost of late, so much as speechless, thoughts trailing and scrambled. haven't found much incentive to write either. feels very much trapped within my four walls. the windows are closed, the thick smelly haze and the infectious h1n1 virus out there and me in here. am i keeping them out, or am i keeping myself in, i have no idea. even the simple act of breathing becomes a luxury, fresh sweet smelling air no more taken for granted.

someone says that the people who are still here are so because of the food. our holy sacred local drooling cuisines. i scoff at that suggestion. nasi lemak, bak kut teh, hokkien mee are what is keeping this nation together? surely not. especially not when i can't find an authentic hokkaido ramen with its milky pork bone soup and springy noodles no less, despite hunting high and low for it. neither can i scavenge any bits or leftovers of my much drooled over and anticipated korean ja jiong meen. so how good is our cuisine again? oily mee mamak, vessels blocking roti canai, all-too-meaty bak kut teh; it's all fine and good, but it excels only in its commonness. perhaps i am not appreciating it because its availability stares me in the eyes and things are only good, in your mind, when they are not within grasp. to me, one beauty of our country is that all types of international cuisines are accessible, but of late i've realised the idiom 'jack of all trades, master of none' applies, pretty much like the people that exist in our political arena. what is the use of having all types of bland moderate fare when none makes an impression on your consciousness. so, somehow, i don't think the presence, or absence, of our local cuisines play a big part, for me at the very least, in remaining in this country.

when politics spill over to our daily lives, when people in power are not doing what they should be doing, when the bad guys pretend to be the good guys, i am still here. when they decide that the nation should regress in support of people performing below the benchmark, i am still here. when the dailies report nothing but half truths, mysterious murders never solved, disillusioned with the people in their high pedestal, i am still here. but when the simple act of breathing becomes a labour, that people go about with their days accepting foul smoke as part of their everyday life, oblivious even to the difference, is it worth it?

i am still here, not because of the wonderful buffet of food that lies before our eyes, for after all, food is only a form of subsistence, the very basic of which is to survive, the more luxurious of which to add a little oomph to life. i am still here, because it bears my root, it is my country. not a country that i am proud of, but nonetheless, it is still my country. but is it worth it?

cliche cliche

2009-08-04T12:14:00.000+08:00

if you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

sigh.

cliche

2009-08-01T12:13:00.000+08:00

for every woman happily shopping away, there is a man yawning nearby.

time for some yummy tummy

2009-07-23T14:38:00.000+08:00

what am i doing at 2.38pm on a thursday afternoon?

supervising my workforce of 5 employees who are carrying out their respective duties in my restaurant, which i call yummy tummy. catchy name, huh? easy to remember, cute and straight to the point. it's doing quite good at the moment, from what i can tell. customers are continuously walking through the door and the till is ringing up its collection every few minutes. business being so good, i've been able to do a little renovation here and there since opening day; a very cute giant octopus by the entrance, pink floor tiles, pink walls, change of uniform for my staff (well, i've only been able to afford a change of uniform for one staff so far). if business continues to prosper, i've been thinking of getting a bigger place, more cute uniforms for the staffs and more decoration for the facade.

it's no easy job, supervising the restaurant, but as far as running business goes, i think i'm having it easy. don't have to go down on hand and foot to do any menial work, other than re-allocating jobs when the situation calls for it. a little redecoration here and there to ease the flow of traffic and put more tables into the place, making sure the toilets are clean and the ingredients fresh, working out the shifts of the employees. sometimes, when the crowd gets too much to handle, i have to ask the cute chef to moonlight as the waitress as well, to clear the tables so that new customers can dine. not so much as a whimper from her, can you believe it? no politics in the restaurant, no gossiping, no bitching, no shifting the blame or workload, no goofing off, no scheming and plottings. everybody goes about their duties like mindless characters in computer games. all in return for an apple, a banana, a sandwich or just a glass of water.

i've got to get my head out of the restaurant city game in facebook. sigh. if only things are that simple in real life.

rain, won't you wash my sadness away?

2009-07-20T14:32:00.000+08:00

it's finally raining.

the days have been very hot, oppressive, depressing even. looking out the window, all you can see is a very thick cloud of haze, glaring in its emptiness, stiffling in its desolation. my head feels tight, my heart despondent. no breath of fresh air, no carefree breeze blowing, the distant is an empty white wall. can't see what lies in the future. feels like the world as we know it.

there have too many deaths recently. too many taken before their prime. so helpless in stopping the ugliness of the world, so impossible in turning back the clock of time.

what do you do with all the sadness that is weighing down your heart? that is like a million tons on your soul, making the days gloomy and the world dull in lustre. their stories call to me, beckons me with a cold clamy hand.

the famous music artiste, the legend of his times, the king of pop. people are already forgetting as we speak, moving on with their lives. how many did he touch during his journey? how many lives did he change? who mourns for him still? he shouldn't have died, but then what was he living for? for whom, for what, for why? another music concert? another performance? or another day in that huge luxurious prison of his?

a young man, barely into his thirties, with one step hovering over a different chapter of his life, never again to know what life has in store for him. i'm not politically inclined and i don't care how this story is or will be twisted into a political weapon, but his demise seem so inopportune, so sad, so tragic. i don't know him, never knew of his existence before his death, and it seems so cold that our paths cross upon his death. a man so simple, being tragically raised from his death to serve the political purpose of others. a life so short, snuffed before he could do many of the things you and i take for granted. a family cries mournfully. a story without an ending.

a few days before his tragic demise, another man, in his early 20s, perished in an unforgiving fire. the only question that stucked in my mind was why. why. why. why. i heard the siren, but being so close to the highway, i didn't give it a second thought. hours later, when all has been said and done, i came down to the aftermath of a very sad scene. a black gaping hole, so black in its emptiness, is all that greets me everytime i leave my apartment.

the thunder just roared. it has been a very long time since i have heard the sky tremble. what was once frightening and intimidating is now comforting, beautiful even. the rain is cleaning everything. yet, there are so many nooks and cranies that it can't reach.

the rain has stopped. so fast it is a memory of the past. the sky is clear again, but for how long. the pitter patter of little drops falling from the corners of the rooftop is a comforting lullaby to my ears.